


A Beloved Family Tradition

by Saraste



Series: FICMAS 2020 [16]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Family Feels, Ficmas, Gen, Heirlooms, M/M, Ornaments, Winter Solstice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:02:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28200591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saraste/pseuds/Saraste
Summary: Thorin and Dís' family have a family tradition concerning a heirloom bauble.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: FICMAS 2020 [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2034025
Comments: 2
Kudos: 40





	A Beloved Family Tradition

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: **bauble** by BD_strike @ twitter.

There was one thing that really made their festive fir, and it was not a top-ornament, but a single bauble, carefully handed down from one generation to the next. Hanging it on the tree had acquired a flavour of revered tradition and was saved for the very last.

It was a white blown-glass bauble that sparkled and shone when light caught it and mesmerized the eye, currently laid on a bed of blue tissue paper in its box to keep it safe.

Thorin's great-grandmother had grafted it and in doing so created an heirloom to be passed on. Originally it had been part of a set of seven, but the other six had met their fate through too curious childish hands and other mishaps that were part of life. There had still been three by the time Dís started her own family, and now only the single one remained, all the more precious for it.

Once upon a time, it had been Thorin's task to hold the box, as the youngest in the family, a task now passed on to Kíli, who was youngest still, at least for this Yule. Thorin could just imagine him helping his child, still a graceful swell under Tauriel's green dress, hold onto the box come next year.

'No, wait,' Kíli said before Dís could offer the box to him, having recovered it from its storage place, 'I'm not the youngest, am I?'

Thorin felt his heart swell with pride and caught the joy on Bilbo's face, his husband was sitting comfortably in an armchair, where an animated Frodo had just run to and was currently explaining some holiday plans. 'You're right, the honour falls to Frodo.'

Dís looked chagrined, 'Of course, my head was somewhere else entirely.'

'Full of all the baking you have planned?' Fíli asked teasingly, but sounding hopeful.

'Among other things...' she replied and nobody apart from Frodo could miss the meaningful glance she cast towards Tauriel's stomach.

They would be welcoming the newest member of the family sometime around the Winter Solstice. Thorin was convinced that Nori had a running bed, but when he glanced in his direction, Dwalin’s husband looked as innocent as he ever was able, which wasn't much, to be honest.

'Anyway…' Bilbo cut in, getting up and setting Frodo to his feet, 'it's Frodo's turn.'

'What do I do?' the lad asked and he didn't sound too shy, just a little hesitant.

The few first months had been rough and it wasn't a full six months since his parents passing. The adoption wasn't legal yet, but the lad felt like family already and Thorin would fight anyone who would try telling him they'd only ever get to foster him. His nephews adored the boy and the rest of their growing family were so gentle and affectionate with him, although Nori might lead him to worse mischief than the boys had ever managed, not having been as young as Frodo was now when they’d first met. There were also Frodo's cousins, who were frequent visitors, filling their home with laughter. Some days Thorin felt like he had more family than he could count and he was glad. 

And to think that for some time, it had only been him and Dís. Those had been the hardest Winter Solstices, when they had hung the three heirloom baubles to hang from a small tree and cried for all those who they had lost or who couldn't come.

Then family had started to trickle in.

First it had been Dís' beloved husband Vili, whose memory lived on in his strong vivacious sons, then it had been Dwalin, damaged by war, but not broken, Balin coming along with him. Then the boys had started dating and Dwalin had met a skittish Nori through Ori who had dragged him along to their Winter Solstice party so he wouldn't mope alone at home.

Then it had been Bilbo, his anchor, his one, his husband. And now Frodo.

The boy approached Dís, who knelt down and offered him the sturdy wooden box. 'You take this to Thorin and be careful with it, it's precious.' She made sure he had a good grip before letting go.

'What is it?' Frodo craned his neck to look up at Bilbo.

Bilbo put his hands onto the lad’s shoulders. 'Something very special for the fir, my boy. Now bring it to Thorin and be very careful.'

The lad nodded, his face set like he was on a mission, it was absolutely adorable. In that moment one would have believed him to be Thorin's child by birth, so alike him he looked, Dís confided to him later over mulled wine, once the house had cleared of most guests and they sat by the fireplace, reminiscing, as was their custom.

Frodo did not trip nor drop the box as he walked to Thorin waiting by the tree, where a special spot had been left free for the bauble, not too high nor too low, but just right, so it would hang as the heart of the decorations, bringing them all together. Thorin was sometimes tempted to recreate the missing six baubles to see what it must have looked like when they'd all hung in a tree, but it wouldn't have been the same, and he had already added to the selection by a series of Durin blue glass baubles with a shimmering of silver twinkling when light hit it just right.

Thorin ignored the flashes of Fíli's camera and various phones and focused on Frodo as he stood still next to him. 'Well done. This is a very integral part of Winter Solstice for our family,' he explained as he opened the lid, smiling as Frodo immediately looked down. 

'Pretty!'

'It is, isn't it?'

Thorin carefully picked up the ball, leaving the cord trailing, turning it this way and that, making light catch on it. 'In our family it is the youngest who carries the bauble to the oldest who then hangs it on the tree.'

'Who made it?'

'My great-great grandmother, she was a glassblower, like me. It’s the precious heirloom of our family.'

'Wow.'

A camera clicked as he and Frodo were admiring the bauble, lost in their own world.

'Put it on uncle so we can switch on the lights!'

'Have patience, Kíli, one would think you were the youngest.'

It was all in good best.

He was careful, hanging the ornament to its reserved spot, where it hung, beautiful on its own right. He drew Frodo close to him. 'Watch as they switch on the lights.'

Dwalin flicked the switch, turning on hundreds of cold white led fairy lights carefully arranged to wind around the branches and the effect was absolutely magical and their star of Durin shone like a true fallen star, a marvel.

It was ready for Winter Solstice to come. 


End file.
